dressing him in the robes of state.

"Answer 'em," said his best friend.

"But supposin' I can't? Then what?"

"He won't ask questions, Bobby. People never do when a potentate is on
his throne. It's shockingly bad form."

"I hope he won't stay long," prayed Bobby, a grave pucker between his
brows. He was a very tired little boy. His eyes were heavy with sleep
and his lips were not very firm.

"Count Halfont will look after him, Bobby; so don't worry. Just sit up
there on the throne and look wise. The regents will do the rest. Watch
your Uncle Caspar. When he gives the signal, you arise. That ends the
audience. You walk out--"

"I know all about that, Uncle Jack. But I bet I do something wrong. This
thing of receiving grand dukes is no joke. 'Specially when we're so
terribly upset. Really, I ought to be looking after the men who are
wounded, attending to the funerals of--"

"Now, Bobby, don't flunk like that! Be a man!"

Bobby promptly squared his little shoulders and set his jaw. "Oh, I'm
not scared!" He was thoughtful for a moment. "But, I'll tell you, it's
awful lonesome up in that big chair, so far away from all your friends.
I wish Uncle Caspar would let me sit down with the crowd."

The Grand Duke, with all the arrogance of a real personage, was late. It
was not for him to consider the conditions that distressed the Court of
Graustark. Not at all. He was a grand duke and he would take his own
time in paying his respects. What cared he that every one in the Castle
was tired and unstrung and sad and--sleepy? Any one but a grand duke
would have waited a day or two before requiring a royal audience. When
he finally presented himself at the Castle doors, a sleepy group of
attendants actually yawned in his presence.

A somnolent atmosphere, still touched by the smell of gunpowder, greeted
him as he strode majestically down the halls. Somehow each person who
bowed to him seemed to do it with the melancholy precision of one who
has been up for six nights in succession and doesn't care who knows it.

No one had slept during the night just passed. Excitement and the
suffering of others had denied slumber to one and all--even to those who
had not slept for many days and nights. Now the reaction was upon them.
Relaxation had succeeded tenseness.

When the Grand Duke entered the great, sombre throne room, he was
confronted by a punctiliously polite assemblage, but every eyelid was as
heavy as lead and as prone to